Prisoners of the Past
by ArchAngel1973
Summary: Sometimes your back is against the wall and your only choice is to take the dangerous path and survive. Survival of the fittest, some would say.  Surviving from one day to the next may save your life at that moment but the repercussions are felt far into
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sometimes your back is against the wall and your only choice is to take the dangerous path and survive. Survival of the fittest, some would say. Surviving from one day to the next may save your life at that moment but the repercussions are felt far into the future. The choice to take the dangerous path may or may not be yours, but someone is always left as a prisoner of the past. The question is whether or not you can survive your past and break free of that prison.

**Prologue**_  
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_The air in the courtroom is oppressive, thick and hot, making the wait even more unbearable. I look up from my study of the scarred table and see my waste of space public defender reach up to fuss with his collar. He's nervous and it's evident in the way he fidgets, the way his eyes dart around the room, and the way he's sweating through the pale yellow shirt he's wearing. If anybody should be sweating, it's me._

_I'm the one whose life hangs in the balance. But I'm not sweating and I'm not letting any of them see just how worried I am that the jury has come back with a guilty verdict. Why? I already know I'm headed for serious time over my latest arrest. I've got a rap sheet as long as my right arm and lucky me, this last one caught me just after my 18th birthday. Sayonara juvenile detention._

_My biggest concern isn't doing the time. Hell, I've been in and out of jail too many times to count. I don't actually enjoy being behind bars but its three squares and a roof over my head and that's better than what I've had most of my life. My main concern is being fresh meat in a cell block full of guys who haven't gotten laid in a while. I don't necessarily want to add murder to my list of crimes, but if some guy thinks he's getting a piece of my ass he won't live to see the next sunrise._

_The heavy door at the back of the courtroom opens and the judge returns to his seat on the bench as the jury silently files in. It strikes me as ironic that these people are supposed to be my peers. They couldn't be more different from me if they tried. The jury foreman walks like he's got a stick up his ass and I'd bet anything he's military. There's an older guy, comes in every morning looking all put-together, so he's probably a businessman or something. Or worse, a lawyer. The woman at the end, she's been staring at me like I did something to her personally since this whole thing started. Her disapproving gaze told me right off that it didn't matter what was said during the trial because she'd already made her mind up I was guilty._

_Innocent until proven guilty, huh? Yeah, sell that lie somewhere else. I know better. If my shitty lawyer had been able to get me off on my current charges it would've been a miracle. I was caught red-handed but I still pled not guilty. Oh, I got offered a deal. The District Attorney offered a reduced sentence if I rolled over on Damon Knight. I just laughed in her face and asked if I'd be getting conjugal visits._

_You don't roll on a guy like Damon. That's how you end up in a back alley wearing a Colombian necktie. No thanks. My gaze moves over the people in the jury box and finds the woman near the middle in the back watching me with that sympathetic look on her face again. I've seen that look before. She wants to know how a guy like me ended up in my current situation. I'm 18 years old and facing prison time for drug possession, intent to sell, and illegal possession of an unlicensed and unregistered handgun. Too bad none of the other jurors look like they care how I ended up here._

_My story could be a fuckin' Lifetime movie, I think with an internal roll of my eyes. Of course there was no way to go over my 18 years and skip to the bullshit happily ever after ending in two hours. I can't really say I expect a happy ending anyway. My life has been filled with one bad decision after another and I'm honest enough to admit a lot of that's on me. My eyes follow the bailiff as he takes the little square of paper from the jury foreman and I already know it contains one word and not two. His steps are heavy as he walks over to hand it off to the judge, almost as if the weight of that one word rests on his shoulders._

_I remember my mother looking burdened that way when I was little. She never missed an opportunity to tell me how I ruined her life. I remember being five years old and popping off after being told that for what felt like the millionth time. I just yelled at her and asked why she didn't just give me away to someone who wanted me. She slapped me hard enough to knock me off my feet and told me no one would ever want me._

_I was born on a cold, rainy March day and she swore she should've seen it for the omen it was. My father took off before I could walk and she got rid of every picture she had of him. I have no memory of what he looks like. I could be standing next to him and I'd never know it. On the rare occasions when I dream I catch glimpses of a little girl. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and a smile that's so open and trusting I just want to tell her to watch her back, people can't be trusted. But she's gone before I can get the warning out. I have no idea who she is even though I feel like I should._

_I watch the judge lean forward and wonder how much that monumental move will exert his fat ass. He reminds me of one of the foster parents I had and for that I hated this judge on sight. Yeah, I said foster parents. Most kids get birthday presents and cake for their birthday. Me? Nope. I don't want anyone's pity, that's just the way it was. Growing up I didn't know any different so birthdays were just like any other day. That is until my sixth birthday. My mother woke me up to tell me to stay in the apartment while she went to pick up something special for my birthday. I didn't understand what was so special about that one. Turns out, the gift was for her. The gift of freedom._

_She never came back. No, she didn't die in some freak accident or get hit and end up in a coma in the hospital as a Jane Doe. She just left and never came back. Yeah, it hurt for a while. Hell, I was only six. No one even knew I was on my own for nine days. And then only because the landlord came around looking for his money and found me instead. By the time he showed up it had been three days since I'd eaten. There was some food in the apartment but I couldn't open the cans since I couldn't find the can opener and I sure as hell couldn't cook. I had been surviving on dry cereal and bologna and cheese sandwiches until that stuff ran out._

_The landlord reported my situation and before long the filthy little apartment was crawling with cops and the lady from Social Services. I hated the pitying looks but she was nice to me. She made sure I was fed, bathed, dressed in clean clothes, and put in a comfortable bed. Unfortunately staying with her wasn't an option and I felt like I was being abandoned again when she presented me with a pair of foster parents._

_I was in and out of the foster care system multiple times over the next seven years and most of the families were good to me. But I wasn't able to adjust and I fucked up every opportunity I had, trying to prove that what my mother had said wasn't true. That one of the families would find some reason to love me and want to keep me around. It almost happened once, but my foster dad in that situation had a massive stroke and the couple couldn't continue fostering troubled kids no one else wanted. I hated them for a long time, blamed everything on them because once again I felt like I'd been abandoned._

_The next foster home hadn't been one of the nice ones and I really wonder how they managed to get approved. Mr. and Mrs. Shumaker. I didn't trust anyone by that point, and as soon as I was placed with them I knew I was in trouble. There were two other kids in the house, Ava and Trevor. Both were foster kids and both of them were scared of their own shadows. Just my luck it was summer, which meant I couldn't even get out of the house for school._

_Trevor was eight years old, four years younger than me, but we shared a room. The kid was a habitual bed-wetter and it pissed me off that I had gotten stuck with him. Guess what they say's true though: It's better to be pissed off than pissed on. I finally got wise to the program one night when old man Shumaker came into the room well after lights out. Trevor had figured out that if he pissed himself that old pervert wouldn't touch him. In his shoes, I would've pissed myself too._

_The guy obviously wasn't into older boys because he left me alone. Until one night when he'd had too much to drink and he came after me. I'd taken to sleeping with an old knife I'd found in a tackle box when I was supposed to be cleaning out the garage one Saturday, and I cut the hell out of him. I got out of the house and ran for the nearest payphone and I called the cops. I would've kept running right then but I genuinely cared for quiet Ava and annoying Trevor. They were survivors, afraid to buck the system, and doing whatever they had to do to make it through another day._

_Ava has never said if that motherfucker ever touched her but I suspect he tried if nothing else. Yeah, me and Ava, we still hang. We're tight and we've got each other's back. We were removed from the Shumaker's home before they could inflict more damage and I'll give my case worker credit. She really tried to place us as close together as possible but she just couldn't work it out._

_By 13 I was sick of being passed around. It was the eighth foster home I'd been stuck in and I just didn't care anymore. The family was nice and normal but I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd be moved again so what was the point? Ava and I stayed in contact and we knew where each other was living so when I shoved my things in the backpack I'd been carrying around for the past couple of years and snuck out of the house late one night, I went straight to her._

_The couple in the new foster home kept money in a cabinet in the office for emergencies and since running away was an emergency in my book, I took it and shoved it in my pockets before I left. I still feel bad for that one. I was tall for my age and I had enough street smarts to play it off when I got on the subway late that night. I made it over to the neighborhood where Social Services had dumped Ava and she was pissed when I told her I was taking off._

_Ava is about five months younger than me and at 13 years old we already knew more about life than anyone that age should ever know. She shoved a few things in my pack and we took off. We didn't talk about it. She just said she was going wherever I was going. And she did. She still does. She's done time in juvenile detention, done time in jail, she's experienced the uglier side of life, but she still holds onto the belief that somewhere out there a better life's waiting for us. I know better, but hey, it gets her through the night so I leave it alone._

_I glance over my shoulder and give her a cocky grin and she shakes her head at me. I can see the worry in her eyes and I wish she'd stayed away like I told her to. We lived on the streets of New York City for three years and it's changed us. We're harder, edgier than your average 18-year-olds. We wear most of our scars on the inside but there are a few that have marked our skin for life. Ava likes to say each one is a badge of honor, that they're just further proof we're survivors. I don't give them that much thought._

_At 16 years old I got my first real job and we could go into a store and actually buy food instead of lifting it. After three years on the streets we got pretty good at stealing and old habits are hard to break so there were plenty of times we took shit without paying for it. I've never really felt bad about it. I mean, you've gotta survive, right? Ava, it bothered her later when we actually had money and I'd lift things._

_Once I started working for Damon I pushed her to come with me. It was the one time she hesitated to follow my lead. She didn't want to sell her soul and I backed off for a while. She tried to find a job, but with no high school diploma, her age working against her, and no experience she wasn't having much luck. Damon didn't give a shit about a diploma or age. All he cared about was whether or not I could be trusted to run his drugs. I'm smart enough to know better than to cross a guy like Damon. I saw him put a guy down because he shaved a gram of coke on a run. I was 16 at the time and I puked all over my new shoes._

_By 17 I had discovered cocaine as more than just a product I was moving for Damon. It wasn't something I did all the time, but yeah, I started to do it on occasion. Ava recognized the changes and she begged me to get out, but for the first time we were making it on our own and I wasn't willing to give that up. Later we had a huge blowout when she discovered I was carrying a gun. She hates guns. All hell broke loose the night she found it under my pillow and she refused to come to bed until I got rid of it. We ended up compromising because I wouldn't give the gun up and she wouldn't come to bed. Now it stays in the nightstand drawer when we're in bed. Or at least it did until that damn narc busted me and screwed everything up._

_No, we're not a couple and we're not in a relationship. We started sleeping next to each other for warmth when we hit the streets and it became a habit. We've had sex. Hell, we were hormonal and curious like any other teenagers. Neither of us trusts anyone but each other and at least with each other we know we're safe. We don't have any expectations where sex is concerned but sometimes you've just gotta scratch that itch. We never talk about it afterwards and it's not something that happens very often; just once in a while when one of us needs it._

_Sometimes she talks about finding a decent guy that'll treat her right and I know that doesn't have anything to do with us. She just wants a normal guy and a normal life. Most girls talk about getting their claws into some rich guy, but not Ava. She's been kicked around by life and other than me there's no one who cares about her. She wants that and she wouldn't care if the guy was dirt poor. Hell, she'd probably prefer that because she'd know how to act._

_Neither of us would have a clue how to act in a social situation. We grew up on the streets and neither of us has much of an education. We never went back to school after we ran away and employers don't seem to be all that impressed when your education stops after you just barely started the seventh grade. We're street smart but when it comes to anything else we're not exactly the brightest crayons in the box. We know enough to get by and most days that's good enough._

_These days we're doing okay. We've got a place to stay and food to eat on a regular basis. We've got a bed to sleep in and we don't have to worry about being cold at night. We're not loaded or anything but we do okay. Ava has made the occasional run for Damon and she hates it. I've argued that these people are gonna get their drugs one way or the other so it shouldn't matter if they get them from us. She disagrees but running drugs puts food on the table and the other options weren't much better._

_Damon's got his hand in a lot of stuff. He has night clubs, he runs drugs, he's into prostitution and gambling, he's a loan shark, and he doesn't care who gets hurt as long as he makes a profit. I've been sent out to collect from people who owe him. They always have a reason for not having his money and I've watched them beg for just a few more days to get it together. I look down at my hands, my eyes tracing over the scars on my knuckles. They get their extension but it comes with added interest and a beating that leaves them barely conscious._

_I'm not a saint but I'm not the devil either. Maybe I've made all the wrong choices, but I've survived. Ava has survived. We had to get off the streets and it's hard to do when you're 16 because if they find out you're homeless your ass is gonna land right back where you started. A lot of kids on the streets sell themselves just to put food in their stomachs or to get in out of the cold for an hour or two. We made a pact that we'd never do that but there came a time when it looked like we were both out of ideas and options. And that's when Damon Knight entered the picture._

_There are guys in his organization who make a lot more than we do but I'm not complaining. We're off the streets and that's all I really care about. I look up when my lawyer pokes me and I realize the judge is waiting for me to stand. I get to my feet, not out of respect or because I give a fuck about his expectations, but because I don't need him to charge me with contempt and tack more time onto my sentence. I already know from the way this guy's been watching me that when I come back for sentencing he's gonna hit me with the maximum sentence just because he doesn't like me._

_The court clerk reads out the guilty verdict and my lawyer adjusts his tie again, shooting a nervous glance at me. If the judge wasn't watching me so closely I'd stomp my foot just to make this guy jump. He acts like I'm gonna do something to him and it makes me want to laugh. I have no reason to bust knuckles up against his head but he obviously doesn't know that. I turn to look at Ava when one of the officers comes over to slap the cuffs on me. She'll visit me as soon as I can have visitors and I mouth the words, 'It'll be okay' to her as they haul me off to transport me back to county lockup._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_The judge finally gets around to having me brought back to the courthouse for my sentencing. It's a waste of time in my opinion. I was already in jail, so why haul me all the way down here to tell me what I already know? Its ironic how they want you in court at a certain time but the judge always seems to be running behind schedule. Probably had to stop for a cupcake on the way, I think._

_I glance over my right shoulder when a hand settles on my arm and I find myself staring into Ava's blue eyes. She's worried about how long they're gonna lock me up even though she won't say it out loud. She's got this superstition about saying negative thoughts out loud, like it'll make them come true or something._

"_Hey, piece of cake. My lawyer says I'm not lookin' at more than 36 months and maybe not even that." What he actually said was I should consider myself very lucky that I hadn't been carrying more weight when I got busted but she doesn't need to know that._

"_That's a long time," she says quietly._

_I raise my handcuffed hands to cover hers. I've had time to think while sitting in my cell since the verdict came in and I've started to do a little worrying of my own. She'll be alone while I'm locked up and there won't be anyone to watch her back. "Take our stash and get outta here, Ava." I recognize the stubborn look on her face. "I'm serious. You don't know enough about the organization for Damon to fuck with you if you get out now."_

"_I'll just keep my head down and keep doing what I've been doing."_

"_I can't hear this," my lawyer says, his nervous gaze flicking between us._

"_Then stop listening," I snap at him. I turn my attention back to Ava. We hide all of our money behind a loose brick in the bathroom wall and while it isn't a phenomenal amount of money it is enough to get her out of the city._

"_I've got your back." She shakes her head, refusing to elaborate or give in to my demand that she leave the city._

"_But I can't have your back from prison."_

_She covers my mouth with her hand and shakes her head again. "I'm tougher than I look."_

_And she is. I know that. But Damon has little use for women outside of what they can do with his dick. I don't know if it was my argument that convinced him that Ava would be useful as a runner or if he was simply humoring me while I was learning the ropes, but he's never messed with her._

_She's watching me again and after a moment she gives me a smile. "I may not like guns but I know how to use a knife."_

_I can't stop the grin that surfaces at her confident statement. She damn well knows how to use a knife. You learn some interesting and useful things on the streets and if you're gonna survive you have no choice but to learn to protect yourself._

_We're interrupted when the judge finally decides to haul his fat ass into the courtroom and the bailiff calls the court to order. I listen to the judge drone on about all the thought he's put into his decision as I stand there waiting for him to spit my punishment out. I hear Ava gasp when he sentences me to a minimum of four years and a maximum of nearly seven years._

"_You said I was lookin' at three years at the most." I look at my useless lawyer who's already packing his shit up to make his escape. "There's a big fuckin' difference between three years and four to seven years!" I'm beyond pissed. I can't leave Ava alone for four, maybe seven years. Three was bad enough, but four to seven? Who will we be in seven years? What if something happens to her because I'm not there to protect her?_

"_Can't you object or somethin'?" Ava asks. She's watching the officers coming over to escort me out of the courtroom._

"_The judge has made his ruling." He looks at me as he snaps his shiny black briefcase closed. "Use this time wisely. You've got an opportunity here. You can turn your life around and come out of this a better person."_

"_You get that out of a fortune cookie? Why don't you go find another client to screw over," I snap at him._

_The officers are almost on top of me and Ava leans in close to throw her arms around my neck. "I'll come see you as soon as I can," she promises thickly._

"_Don't waste the money," I tell her. The prison I've been sentenced to is nearly a hundred miles away and the bus fare would be too much money. We don't own a car and neither of us has ever learned to drive anyway. "If things work out I might be able to get transferred closer."_

_She hugs me tighter when the officers grab my arms roughly. "I'll see you soon." She gives me that stubborn look that tells me it'd be a waste of time to argue with her and I grab her hand as they pull me away._

"_Watch your back," I tell her and she nods in response. There are tears in her blue eyes but she won't let them fall. She won't expose that vulnerability in front of anyone she doesn't trust. I can count the number of times she's cried in front of me and I wouldn't even use all the fingers on one hand. I'm forced to let her go as the officers pull me away for transport to my new home and I wonder who I'll be when I'm finally released._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I stand outside of the prison walls, staring up at the intimidating structure as I draw in deep lungfuls of fresh air. Enjoying the smell of freedom. Five years, two months, one week, and five days. I got time off for good behavior so I didn't have to serve the full sentence on the inside. Even with the immense relief at finally being on the outside there's a feeling of sadness that overshadows it.

Ava isn't here. She stopped coming to visit me two months ago and I haven't had any contact with her since then. I knew something was going on but she couldn't tell me what it was and I don't know why. I wonder if she finally just had enough of Damon and his organization and she ran. That doesn't sound like her but she might not have had much of a choice. She tried to get out a couple years back but by that point she was in too deep and walking away wasn't an option.

Damon found out that she was planning to leave and he sent a couple of his lackeys to remind her that it wasn't her choice to make. I saw the healing cuts and bruises when she came to visit and she finally told me what happened. Amidst the anger was this rush of relief that they hadn't hurt her worse and forced themselves on her.

Before I got busted I always made sure she didn't see the worst of what Damon was capable of and without me there she had no one to protect her. She's not stupid and as much as she likes to see the good in everything around her she's not naïve. I've watched her change, pull into herself for protection, and I wonder how differently our lives would've turned out if I hadn't run away and taken her with me. I don't regret the decision so much for myself, but what it's done to her… I don't know how much damage that decision did to her.

I start to walk to the waiting bus that will take me into the city, carrying everything I own in a brown paper sack. I've gotta check in with my parole officer and then I'll be staying in a halfway house because I don't have anywhere else to go. I saw what can happen to guys who get out and continue to live the way they were living before going to prison and most of them ended up behind bars again before long. I have no interest or intention of ending up back in prison. I didn't enjoy it the first time around.

I swore when I got out I was going straight and that's what I'm gonna do. I spent my time behind bars wisely for the most part. I got into some trouble at the beginning but then I started to wise up. I don't wanna be a career criminal. I completed a substance abuse program that I only took at first to make points but during the course I realized that what I thought was just recreational use really was a problem. I got my GED and I even took a few courses to get me ready to take some college classes. I inhale deeply and mentally go over my plan as I board the bus and take a seat. I've spent my whole life doing what I had to do to survive.

My name is Max Evans and from now on I'm concentrating on living.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1**

James Valenti Sr. looked up when the door to his office opened and he smiled at the woman standing there. She was dressed to the nines and stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy parole office. He had learned long ago that she was never going to fit in and she was most comfortable when she stood out from the crowd. "How are you today, Mrs. Parker?"

"I'm well, thank you." She settled into the worn chair that sat in front of his desk and placed her purse on the floor next to her foot. Putting it on his desk would likely cause an avalanche of the mountain of paperwork haphazardly stacked there. She knew from past experience that despite appearances he was one of the most organized men she had ever known. _God help anyone else who ever had to come into this office and find anything though,_ she thought with a smile.

He had been involved in law enforcement his whole adult life in one capacity or another. After a shooting that had limited his mobility he had been relegated to riding a desk and eventually he had moved to a new position. It had taken several years before he had decided to become a field parole officer, wanting to make a difference in the city and in the lives of the men and women that came through his office.

Over the years that he had been working as a parole officer he had developed a sense for reading the people who sat across from him. He could look into the eyes of the parolees, study their body language, listen to them talk, and he could tell with a fair amount of accuracy if they were going to be successful or if they were going to be back behind bars before long. The woman sitting across from him had been instrumental in helping him keep some of the more risky parolees from falling through the cracks.

Parolees who were at risk in the sense that when they were released they had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Some of them had no family and some of them had family who wanted nothing to do with them once they were released. Without ties to family or friends, without a reason to keep fighting to follow the right path, they would end up on the wrong side of the law again. They fell back into old habits, turned back to what they knew when every other door seemed to close in their faces. It was his job to help them as they reentered the community to help them find ways to deal with their problems, and if the situation warranted, apprehend and arrest them.

"I came by with the paperwork for Kaufman," she said as she handed over a plain file folder. "I know you'll need it for the report."

He sighed and nodded. "I had a bad feelin' about that one."

She smiled encouragingly. He had warned her before they had placed the 21-year-old girl into the program that he didn't think she was being straight with them. "We can't save them all." She shook her head. "Especially when their interest in changing is only for show." She sat up straighter. "We also can't let it deter us from helping those that do want to change." She saw his gaze move over the papers before he leaned forward and pulled a file from the stack by his right elbow. "I knew you had someone in mind."

Through her organization they had helped quite a few parolees find their way back into society by putting them into an honest job and providing guidance. Her husband owned a posh restaurant in Manhattan and he had put a few of them to work. They had even housed the occasional parolee who had nowhere else to go and no family or friends to turn to. Jeff had a big heart but he was also street smart; he'd had his share of trouble as a young man and someone had been there to give him a hand when he needed it most and it had given him the chance to turn his life around.

"Got a young fella should be checkin' in today. Name's Max Evans. He's 23 years old, been in for a little over five years. He's smart and he's made good use of his time behind bars. I think this kid has a good chance of making the transition and going on to have a successful life but he needs to be in a stable environment."

"No family?" she asked, certain the answer would be no.

"No ties whatsoever." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There was a girl but she's fallen off the map. Stopped coming to visit him a couple months back. There is some concern that he might attempt to locate her."

"And that would put him in danger of falling back in with old habits and bad influences," she guessed.

"Yeah." He handed the folder over to her before leaning back and linking his fingers behind his head. He watched her as she opened it, her eyes scanning over the information before lifting up a piece of paper stapled to the inside cover so she could look at his picture. "He does look… rough."

James chuckled and nodded. "He's got an edge. The rug on his face makes him look older and that helps on the inside."

"The guesthouse is empty and if he's passed your inspection then I know Jeff will be alright with him staying with us."

"I think he would benefit from that environment. I have his paperwork ready to go. I just need to talk to him about the program when he shows up to check in." He glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Does he have any kitchen experience?"

He shook his head. "He doesn't have any experience that would make him an asset to the restaurant business but he learns fast and he adapts to his surroundings." He sat forward and drummed his fingers on his desktop. "Granted, it's easier for someone like him to adapt to street life than it is to adapt to what you're used to, but given time and encouragement I think he'll adjust to it."

"You'll bring him by this evening?"

He nodded. "This kid's used to things being simple…"

"No caviar in the guesthouse cupboards," she said, her voice filled with humor. "We've been doing this long enough that we know how to stock the pantry for our guests, James." She sobered after a moment as she read through the file. "He's had a difficult life."

"He doesn't talk much about his past so you can imagine what he's holding back given what's in that report. I think given the opportunity to earn an honest living he'll take it. Even when he was making a living committing criminal acts his existence was simplistic."

"I'll speak with Jeff when I leave here, but we can take care of the paperwork now."

James nodded. He had been hoping she wouldn't change her mind after reading a little further into the kid's criminal background. He wouldn't need to do an initial investigation if Evans was residing in the guesthouse. He made the occasional visit to make sure everything met the criteria for housing a parolee and they had a perfect record. He would make a surprise visit once the younger man was settled, take a look around and make sure he was following the rules.

Elizabeth Parker was bored. She leaned back in her seat and watched the activity in the club around her, wondering why she had come here tonight. It was the same old scene, the same old people, and the same old music.

"Why do you have that look on your face?"

She looked up and smiled when her best friend, Maria DeLuca, settled on the barstool beside her. "What look?"

"I don't know. It's kind of a cross between constipated and frustrated."

"Gross, Maria."

The vivacious blonde just stuck her tongue out at her friend and lifted her hand to wave at someone across the club. She flashed a smile at her long-time boyfriend Michael Guerin. He worked construction during the week and on alternating weekends he worked as a bouncer at the club, and they were just stopping in so he could pick up his check.

"I can't believe the two of you are still together." She and Michael tolerated each other for Maria's sake but beyond that they never spoke or acknowledged each other's existence.

"I just feel so warm and fuzzy when you say things like that." She rolled her eyes and ordered a club soda. "You do realize it's futile to wish him away, right? I'm gonna marry that man one of these days."

Liz tossed the last of her drink back and motioned to the bartender for another before looking at Maria. "I'm sorry. He's just so…" She sighed. "He's rude."

"To you, yes. And you're rude to him, what's your point?"

"You're 24 years old, Maria, and you're stuck with that jerk and a kid. You could do so much better than that guy."

Maria accepted her drink with a smile of thanks and took a sip. She was familiar with the argument and could probably quote it in her sleep. "I don't look at it like I'm stuck, Liz."

"But you are. You used to be so fun and now… now you're just…"

She smirked. "Now I'm not fun anymore?"

"No, I'm not saying that. You're still fun but now you can't be fun as often. Now most nights you're at home before the real fun begins."

"It's called growing up, girl. You can't party all night every night for the rest of your life."

"I can try." Liz rolled her eyes and took a drink from the glass the bartender placed in front of her. "There's a great band coming on at 10pm."

"We've gotta pick Hunter up after Michael gets his check. He's not working late tonight so that gives us a little family time."

Liz sighed and then shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just hard to get used to. A year ago you were partying with me and now you're like Mom of the Year."

Maria laughed at that. "Liz, I didn't plan to be this settled at 24 and regardless of what you think Michael didn't pressure me into this."

"Uh-huh," Liz said, her tone one of disbelief. "So, you're telling me he doesn't expect you to cook and clean?"

"Good grief, girl, you make it sound like he keeps me chained to the kitchen sink." She laughed and shook her head. "Yes, I do cook and clean, but I do it because I don't want to live in a pigsty, not because he expects it. In your world you pay someone to do those things and in our world the commoners clean their own houses and cook their own food." She winked and grinned. "On a really good week we let the local pizza place cook for us on the occasional Friday night."

Liz sighed. "I'm being a snob again, aren't I? I'm sorry, Maria. Forgive me?"

"Only if you take that silver spoon out of your ass. Again." She leaned over and hugged the brunette. "Yes, I forgive you. I know you don't understand it, Liz, but I have the life I want. No, I wasn't expecting to have a family this soon, but that's the way it worked out and I wouldn't trade them for anything."

"Isn't it weird though? I mean, raising someone else's kid?"

Maria shook her head and smiled. "Hunter may not be ours by birth, but he's ours just the same."

"Hey, babe, you about ready to go?"

Maria smiled at the question growled in that sexy voice that belonged exclusively to her boyfriend. "Um-hmm, Liz and I were just catching up."

His dark eyes leveled on the other girl. "Parker."

"Guerin," she muttered.

Maria had long ago given up trying to get the two of them to be civil each other, accepting that this was about as civil as they were going to get. Michael and Liz had just gotten off on the wrong foot when they had first met and they were content to allow things to stay that way. She saw no reason for them to force themselves to get along just to make her happy so she had finally stopped trying to find common ground between them.

"Anyway," Michael said, "I called a couple of stores and I found one that has that water sprinkler toy you wanted to pick up for Hunter."

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she scooted around to face him. "Really? Aww, Michael, he's gonna love it," she said as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, they said they'd hold it for an hour before they put it back on the shelf. If we head over to the bank now we can deposit my check and then make a stop at the store before heading to your mom's house to pick him up."

Liz listened to their conversation for several minutes before turning her attention to the people on the dance floor, her bored gaze seeking out anyone who might hold her interest for more than a matter of minutes.

"Well, girl, time for me to go. I'll call you in the next couple of days, okay?" Maria leaned over to give her friend a hug.

"Fine, leave me here all alone," she said, returning the hug. She flipped Michael off when he shot an annoyed look at her.

"I'd invite you over for burgers on the grill but I know that look so I won't waste my breath." She squeezed the other girl's hand and met her gaze directly. "You deserve better than what you're settling for."

"And maybe not everyone's cut out for happily ever after." She shook her head when Maria started to object. "Old argument and I'm not interested in engaging today." Her eyes wandered to a guy standing at the opposite end of the bar and she smiled when he held the bottle in his hand up, tipping it in her direction in greeting. He was exactly what she was looking for. She nodded at her friend and waved her off. "Okay, bye, Maria."

Maria rolled her eyes and slid off of the barstool. "Have fun, Liz."

"Oh, I will."

Max looked around at the residential area his parole officer turned into, certain the man must've made a wrong turn somewhere. Valenti had explained the way the program worked and told him what was expected of him, warned him about violating his parole, and he had listened to every word. He scratched the back of his neck. The only time he'd ever been to a house like the ones they were passing was the one time he had been taken to see Damon at his home. _Of course, that place had made these look plain in comparison,_ he thought with a silent snort.

"Why would these people open their home up to an ex-con?" he asked finally.

"The guesthouse is separate living quarters so you won't actually be living with the family. It gives you privacy and it gives them security. You completed the drug program in prison and you've shown that you want to move forward with your life. This is your chance to do that. The Parkers are involved because Mrs. Parker is on the board of an organization that helps parolees make the transition from life in prison to life on the outside. You've got a good start but you're gonna have to work hard to hold onto the changes you've made." He put his signal on and turned into a driveway lined with trees.

"And the husband's just gonna let me work in their restaurant?"

"Jeff doesn't _just let_ anyone do anything. He's a taskmaster and he demands perfection in his employees. He'll demand more from you. He doesn't give anything for free; you'll be expected to earn your paycheck."

Max shrugged. _After some of the things he'd done in the past how hard could working in a restaurant be?_ He looked up at the couple who stepped out on the wide front porch when Officer Valenti parked by the steps. He waited for the older man to get out, waiting for the man to motion to the door and let him know he could exit the vehicle.

James made the introductions between Evans and the Parkers and watched Jeff when he singled the younger man out and indicated that Max should follow him. "Well, I'll leave him in your capable hands."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I have dinner plans. You have my number if there are any problems and he has the dates for his required check-ins." He reached up to touch the brim of his hat as he turned to follow the uniformed housekeeper back to the front door.

Nancy moved to the bank of windows at the back of the house to watch her husband walk back to the guesthouse. She could see the unease in the younger man's posture as he looked around and she knew from experience that his face would give nothing away. She had been working with James for quite a few years now and she knew how important the work they did together was. Most of the time it was easier for these men and women to fall back into the lives that had led them to prison in the first place because society didn't want them back. They were damaged goods and the willingness to extend the offer of a second chance wasn't always there for them.

Her organization worked with many types of offenders but there were certain ones who weren't eligible for the program. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that everyone who came out of prison wanted help or could be helped. It took dedication and hard work and there were plenty who weren't interested or who gave up when they met resistance.

She would never understand things from their side. She had been born to privilege and she had never so much as gotten a traffic ticket. Her husband understood them though. Not all of them of course, but there were some that he could reach because he had been in a similar situation. Jeff had worked his way up from the bottom to become a successful restaurateur and he was proof that if they were willing to work hard and give it everything they had then they had an opportunity to make something of themselves. She smiled as she watched him pointing out everything on the grounds before finally motioning to the guesthouse that sat back behind a row of hedges planted to provide privacy.

Jeff shoved his hands in his back pockets as he watched the younger man prowl around the guesthouse. He gave him space, careful to not crowd him as he tried to make sense of what was happening. When Nancy had gotten involved with the organization and asked what he thought about allowing a low-level offender coming up for parole to reside in their guesthouse he had given the question a lot of consideration.

Their daughter had been seven years old at the time and he had been cautious about his answer. He knew that if someone wanted something badly enough he or she would be willing to risk everything to get it. Security systems, guard dogs, neighborhood patrols… he knew it wasn't guaranteed protection. He believed in rehabilitation but he didn't believe it worked for sexual offenders. His wife's organization worked closely with offenders who had the best chance of being rehabilitated but they didn't work with any offender who had a sexually-related offense on their record. They were left to other organizations and he was fine with that.

They had talked about it for quite a while before he had agreed and the first thing he had done once the decision had been made was to have a contractor brought in to knock walls out and put more windows in. The guesthouse was a one-bedroom with an eat-in kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a sizeable back porch. Even though the house was small he knew from experience how intimidating that space could be after years of confinement. As much as he craved freedom it would take time for the kid to become accustomed to moving around freely.

"Why're you doin' this?" Max asked finally. It didn't make sense. These people didn't know him, they didn't owe him anything.

"The world gives you nothin' for free, Max, and comin' outta prison you're basically set up to fail. The people out there don't want you. You're damaged goods, you're a threat to them, and they'd be just as happy to never have to look at you. Organizations like the one my wife works with gives parolees the opportunity to change their lives for the better, but it only works if you want it bad enough."

"I've served my time and I'm never goin' back there."

He hid a smile when he heard the determination in the kid's voice. "I've got your schedule on the counter in the kitchen. You can ride in with me in the mornin'. We'll leave at four."

"Four… a.m.?" Max asked.

Jeff chuckled. "The restaurant business starts early."

"So you get off at like two or three in the afternoon?" _Well, those hours wouldn't be that bad._

"No, running a restaurant isn't an eight-hour job. Most nights I'm not home until close to midnight. I'm startin' you out at the bottom of the ladder but you won't be expected to stay past two. I have no problem with it if you wanna put in extra hours. And if not, you're familiar with the public transportation in the city. Since there were no special conditions to your parole you don't have a curfew and you're not required to check in with us so you're free to come and go as you please." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around. "Nancy had the kitchen stocked so there's plenty of food but you're welcome to join us up at the house for dinner."

"Nah, I'm good here."

"Alright then, I'll leave you to yourself." He was reaching for the doorknob when the kid spoke up.

"Mr. Parker?"

He turned and lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Thanks." He stood there in the silence after Mr. Parker left and he inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh, clean scent of the guesthouse. Not another human being in sight. No noise created by too many men talking, arguing, and fighting. Not a single sound that resembled cell doors opening and closing, batons being cracked against the bars, or spit-shined shoes striking the concrete floor. _He could get lost in the silence,_ he thought as he moved across the room to run his right hand over the couch. He turned in a circle, trying to figure out what he should do first. His eyes settled on the kitchen and he wandered over to start opening the cabinets and refrigerator, looking over the variety of food and drinks available. He ran his fingertip over a package of fudge-striped cookies and it suddenly hit him.

He could eat whenever and whatever he wanted. He could sleep whenever he wanted. He looked back at the living room. He could sleep where he wanted. On the couch or in the king-sized bed in the bedroom, and he wouldn't have to worry about having a cellmate sleeping in the bunk above or below him. There was no one there to regulate his day and watch his every move.

Max stood there in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by the early evening light coming in through the windows that were everywhere. When he had walked into the office and been introduced to his parole officer he had expected to be shuffled off to a halfway house. He had never expected to land someplace like this or to have a job handed to him. He had a feeling the man was going to work him like a dog but he didn't care. He had to get on his feet so he could find Ava and make sure she was safe. If he could do this right and find her they could both escape that life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 2**

Maria opened the front door to her mom's house, calling out as she stepped inside. She could hear Hunter happily babbling about something and a moment later she heard a deeper voice talking to her little boy. She leaned against the doorframe in the living room and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her stepbrother playing with Hunter. He was careful with the 15-month-old and had a gentleness that seemed at odds with his currently scruffy exterior. She made a face and shook her head when the man looked up at her and she got a look at him. "What is that crap on your face?" she asked.

Kyle Valenti rolled over and leaned back on his elbows as he grinned up at her. He reached up to run his right hand over his goatee and mustache. "Don't like it?"

"You look like a drug dealer," she said, wrinkling her nose at him. His hair was longer than normal, giving him a shaggy look.

"Kinda the point, Sis." He watched her pick Hunter up and he smiled at them when they greeted each other as if they had been separated for weeks instead of just a couple of hours.

It had been several weeks since he had been anywhere near their family. It was a habit he had gotten into when he had started working undercover and she knew he did it for their safety as well as his but she hated it. "Since you're here can I assume you're finished with your latest undercover assignment?"

"Hey, look who came crawlin' outta the gutter," Michael said as he came into the room and shook hands with his girlfriend's brother.

"Yeah, well, I can only spend so much time down there," Kyle grinned but it was strained. "Mom insisted I stay for supper and I couldn't turn down a chance to spend some time with my little nephew." He reached out to tug on the little boy's foot, making him laugh. "She said you two were comin' by to pick him up."

"You been entertaining your Uncle Kyle?" Michael took Hunter, tickling the little boy's tummy and making him squirm around and laugh. "Yeah, we had to do a few things this afternoon and Grandma and Grandpa have been sayin' they don't get enough time with Hunter."

"They'll never get enough time." Kyle smirked when he heard Dad come in through the back door and a moment later Mom was telling him to stop eating from the pots. "Mom sent him out to the store when I got here, said she needed more food."

Maria rolled her eyes. "You know every time you come back from one of those assignments she's so happy to have you back." She met his gaze evenly when he got to his feet. "We all are," she said quietly. She reached up to grasp his chin and turned his head to the side. "You need a haircut and a shave though."

He rubbed his palm over his goatee. "What? The chicks like this look."

"Land more of 'em that way?" Michael asked with interest.

Maria smacked his stomach with the back of her hand. "You've landed your limit, Guerin."

Before he could comment her mother and stepfather came into the room and the conversation was off and running. It was a lot like watching a tennis match. Since the first time Maria had brought him home in junior high he had been fascinated by the way her family interacted. Put the four of them together and it was chaos. Especially if they hadn't been together in a while. He knew it wouldn't be long before her mom was insisting they stay for dinner and with Kyle home after being away for nearly a month Maria would want to spend time with him.

He snatched up one of the little cloth storybooks and sat down in the recliner near the dormant fireplace. He settled Hunter in his lap and kicked the footrest out. "Between me an' you I think it's safer over here."

Hunter tipped his head back to look up at him and he suddenly broke out in a wide grin for no reason at all.

Michael chuckled and shook his head when he caught sight of the two tiny bottom teeth finally beginning to emerge. "Drool monster alert," he called and somehow Maria heard him over the din and came over with a rag to wipe the baby's face and kiss his forehead.

"Don't drool all over Daddy; he's had a long day." She crouched down next to the chair and linked her fingers through Michael's. "How would you feel about stayin' for dinner?" She smiled. "Mom made pot roast."

"Only if she made the roasted potatoes to go with it."

Maria leaned in closer when he tugged on her hand, giving him a kiss and staring into his eyes. As much as he enjoyed time with just their little family he had become a part of her family over the years that they had been together.

"Make some room over here, Maria," Jim said, giving her a gentle nudge. He shook Michael's hand before reaching for his grandson and lifting him up against his chest. "I think this fella right here needs some guy time, don't you, Hunter? Um-hmm, spent the whole day bein' fussed over by Grandma, haven't you?"

Hunter scrunched his face up as he smiled.

"He loves spending time with his grandma," Amy said as she smacked her husband's backside.

Kyle grabbed the television remote and threw himself down on the couch, bending one arm behind his head as he propped it on the arm of the couch. "How've the boys been playin'?" he asked with a glance at Michael.

"Not too bad. Lost a few, but they've been playin' better the last couple weeks." He nodded when Kyle motioned to the baseball game on the screen.

"Kyle, now that you're home, you should join us for the game this weekend," Jim said as he tugged his badge out of Hunter's hands and tossed it on top of the cabinet next to the living room doorway.

"I thought Mom's been goin' while I've been workin'?" he asked, trying to hide a yawn.

"I'll be happy to let you have my seat," Amy said as she came back into the room with three bottles of beer that she passed around to the men in the room. She retrieved Hunter's bottle and put it in his hands when he tried to make a grab for Jim's beer. "I have other things I can be doing and you boys can hang out together and go to the game."

"What about Maria?"

"Maria has plans on Saturday afternoon," Maria spoke up. "You guys go and have fun. You can take Grandpa in my place. Believe me, I'll survive if I miss out on the game." She watched them as the conversation quickly turned to the game and she smiled as they made plans to meet up and hang out before heading out to the ballpark. There had been a time when she had thought they were never going to get along. Michael's relationship with her family, her included, had been put on the line in the past and it had taken a long time for them to move beyond the mistakes that had been made.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Max stared up at the ceiling and shifted restlessly, listening to the soft sheets rustling against his legs. As much as he craved the silence it was so loud he couldn't hear himself think. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face and getting to his feet. He walked around the bed and grabbed the jeans he had been wearing earlier, pulling them on and moving into the living room. He now had the freedom to do whatever he wanted and he didn't know how to act.

It pissed him off.

He turned the stereo on, keeping the volume at a respectable level, and scanned from station to station in search of something that sounded familiar. He sighed in frustration when everything he heard was different from what he was used to and he suddenly realized that while he had been in prison life had gone on without him. He had tried to watch television earlier but even when he and Ava had finally gotten a place he hadn't had much interest in watching TV. He was too used to trying to survive, and sitting down to vegetate in front of some program hadn't appealed to him.

He shifted his weight to look at the patio doors that opened to the back porch when he heard something tapping against the glass. He moved to them and unlocked the doors, pushing them open and freezing when the fresh scent of rain hit his nostrils. He stepped out onto the porch, turning his face upwards and letting the raindrops pelt his flesh. How long had it been since he had felt the rain on his skin? Too long, he decided. He stood there, not caring that he was getting soaked. The night was warm and the rain felt good. Thunder rolled and lightening danced across the sky, the brief flashes illuminating the grounds.

How did people get so wealthy? He understood how it happened when money and other things were obtained through illegal activities and transactions, but how did they do it legally? Could honest, hard work really pay off like that? He walked to one end of the porch and peered around the side of the house, looking back towards the Parkers' home. His gaze was drawn to the pool that stretched out behind the house before shifting to settle on the little lights that illuminated the paved walkway that wrapped around both sides of the residence.

He wondered what he could expect his first day on the job. He had no idea what people who worked in restaurants did at four in the morning. It wasn't a fast food restaurant, which meant they probably didn't open until mid-morning at the earliest. If the place didn't open until mid-morning, what would he be doing for five or six hours? He knew how to heat things up, but he didn't really know anything about cooking. While serving his sentence he had worked in the prison library and he had discovered a love for books. He could read a good book and lose himself in its pages, let himself become part of the story. It had served as an escape at first but over time he had grown to genuinely appreciate it for the art it was.

Lightening streaked across the sky, the jagged light reaching down from the heavens to tease the branches of a nearby tree before seeming to retract and then disappear altogether. He swallowed hard as the sight took him back to another rainy night, but instead of warm air the night had been cold.

_It had been November and they had gotten caught outside during a downpour. They were soaked to the bone and Ava had been coughing for the past few days. It was too late to get into the shelters, they had filled hours ago. Sneaking into the old abandoned warehouses was dangerous; the buildings were often falling apart and usually they were already inhabited by other people – the homeless, drug addicts, and human predators who existed to prey on the helpless and the weak._

_They usually avoided the warehouses when they could but he didn't like the sound of Ava's cough and there would be no way to stay out of the elements if they stayed in the park. He narrowed his eyes as they passed an apartment building with several of the basement windows boarded up. "C'mon, let's check it out."_

_The thunder overhead was steady enough that he was able to pry one of the boards loose without drawing any attention to them. He had her wait in the shadows while he slipped inside to check it out. After looking around he had climbed up on a crate and motioned for her to climb in and he had helped her down to the floor._

"_Laundry room," he said as he pointed to the bank of washers and dryers around the room. The room wasn't very warm but it was warmer than being outside. He started opening up the dryer doors, looking for anything that would keep her warm and swearing aloud when he found all of them empty. "I'm gonna run out and get us somethin' to eat."_

_She had been shaking from the cold and he dug around in his pockets for the change that was leftover from their bottle collecting the day before. Collecting bottles and cans had at least given them a little bit of money, but it wasn't much. He fed a couple of coins into one of the dryers and sat her down next to it so she could absorb the warmth coming from the machine._

"_Soon as I get back we'll dry our clothes, okay?"_

_She started to answer but just nodded instead when she was hit with another coughing fit._

_He squeezed back out through the opening and shoved the board back into place before taking off down the alley. He headed for the street, running until he reached a small corner store and hurrying inside. He scoured the three tight aisles, looking for the available cough medicines and finding the one he wanted before moving over another aisle and locating the Ramen noodles. He picked up two packages and then backtracked to the cough medicine, using the distraction of a new customer entering the shop to snatch the small box and shove it in his coat sleeve. He hit a shelf with his elbow and purposefully knocked a few things to the floor so he could slip a bar of cheap soap into the top of his boot. He shoved the other things back on the shelf and then made his way to the counter._

_He paid for the noodles and the old guy behind the counter reluctantly let him have one of the Styrofoam cups by the fountain drinks. He snatched a couple of the white plastic spoons and then hurried back outside. The laundry room had given him an idea and instead of heading right back to Ava he had gone a couple of blocks out of his way to a coin-operated laundry. A couple of people looked up when he stepped inside but they quickly averted their gazes, either feeling threatened by his presence or uncomfortable at the sight of yet another homeless person. He didn't care either way; all that mattered was that they leave him alone._

_He checked the trash cans, knowing someone would've thrown away a trash bag. He finally found one and he pulled it out, opening it up and checking it out. There were a couple of holes where whatever had been in it had torn the plastic, but it would do. He checked the dryers along the back where the signs indicated the machines were reserved for customers who dropped their laundry off and he looked around when he found one with a blanket inside. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the other customers were all making an effort to avoid looking at him._

_He snorted to himself and checked the office door, shaking his head when it remained closed. He gave the dryer door a jerk and the warm blanket spilled out into his arms. He quickly shoved it inside the trash bag and headed back to the front door. He was passing one of the folding tables, the items there temporarily abandoned by a woman busy chasing her unruly child around the facility. He quickly grabbed a couple of towels and added them to his collection, rolling the top of the bag closed and heading for the door._

_Ava had been dozing fitfully when he had gotten back and he woke her up, telling her to get out of her wet clothes and wrap up in the blanket. He tossed her clothes in the dryer and added a couple more coins before leaning over one of the washers and turning the water off. He unscrewed the hot water hose and opened the top on the washer before turning it back on and filling the tub. He handed the towels over and then dug the bar of soap out of his boot so she could clean up. It had been a while since either of them had been able to clean up and while a washing machine tub wasn't ideal, it would work well enough._

_He moved down a couple of machines and went through the same process, using the hot water to mix the noodles and add the little flavor packet. It wouldn't be as hot as it should be but at least once it had sat for a few minutes the noodles would soften up. Once Ava had finished washing up she wrapped up in the blanket and he handed her the cup of soup so he could take his turn bathing._

"_This smells nice," she said as she placed her nose at the rim of the cup._

"_It's not exactly chicken soup, but maybe it'll help," he said as he hung his head over the machine and lathered his hands up before scrubbing them through his hair._

"_I like the blanket." She started coughing again and he turned his head to look at her._

"_I lifted some cough medicine."_

_She nodded and went back to sipping the broth. "You brought enough soup for you too, right?"_

"_Yeah, got two packages." It wasn't nearly enough to fill their stomachs but it would take the edge off of their hunger._

"_Good." She finished eating in silence and then took the medicine at his urging before sighing tiredly and closing her eyes. "I wish we had a home to go to," she whispered tiredly._

Max stared up at the sky and wondered again where she was. She was never far from his thoughts and he wished he knew what had happened to keep her from coming to see him. He knew it had to be serious because in all the time he had been in prison she had rarely missed coming to see him, and when she had he'd known ahead of time. It made him fear the worst.

He turned and went back inside, stripping out of his soaked jeans and carrying them into the bathroom to wring them out in the tub. He carried them back to the little room off the kitchen that housed the washer and dryer and he threw them in and started the machine. He leaned against it, soaking up its heat and thinking of Ava.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the middle of the night and her restless prowling was doing nothing to draw the memories to the surface of her mind. Her bare feet made the slightest of sounds as she wandered from one room to the next in search of the elusive childhood phantoms. Up until a few months ago she had believed Max to be a figment of her imagination… an imagined playmate created to ease the boredom when she was a little girl.

She took an involuntary step back when lightning flashed across the sky, the jagged burst of light briefly illuminating the grounds beyond the window. Her fingers reached out, trembling as she followed the first fat raindrops that traveled down the pane of glass. _How had she managed to relegate him to the furthest corners of her mind for so long?_ Until recently she hadn't even thought about him in… years. She tried to conjure up an image of the little boy that had been her constant companion when she was five years old but the image was hazy at best. She was so deeply lost in her thoughts that she wasn't aware of the quiet thumping sound coming from behind her.

Alex Whitman carefully maneuvered himself into the living room, thankful to be relying on strength, determination, and a pair of forearm crutches. Up until a couple of months ago he had been confined to a wheelchair and now that he had gotten out of it he refused to get back in it. He came up behind his fiancé, calling her name to announce his presence so as not to startle her.

"Isabel?"

She turned from the window and forced a smile when she saw Alex standing in the light cast from the hallway. "Alex, did I wake you?"

"The thunder woke me," he said, nodding at the window.

Her gaze moved back to the darkness outside, her eyes following the occasional bolt of lightning that would momentarily light up the night sky. He hadn't slept well during a storm since… since the night of the accident. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force the memory of that night away but it was useless. The memories she wanted to surface remained hidden and the ones she wanted to bury rose up at the slightest suggestion.

It had been a night a lot like this one; overcast and raining heavily. She and Alex had been out with her father, celebrating their engagement. The evening had been cut short when their limo driver overshot an intersection and a truck had slammed into them. The limo had been pushed across the intersection and impacted from the opposite side as well, effectively pinning and trapping them inside.

Her father had died that night but before he had passed on he had told her something he had held inside for almost twenty years. She had a half-brother somewhere out there and she didn't know anything about him beyond his name.

"We'll find him," Alex said quietly. He shifted his weight to his right side and watched her as she stared outside, her eyes locked on a night in the past.

"How? We've been looking for months and haven't found anything."

"We just don't have a lot to go on, honey. We have your brother's name and we have his mother's name, but little else. We have to piece it together and that takes more time than if we had all the information." He'd had his reservations about searching for her half-brother but she had been insistent about finding him so he had accepted her decision.

"You really believe we'll find him, Alex?"

"When the doctors said my chances of walking again ranged somewhere between slim and none, did I ever waver in my belief that I'd walk again?"

Her eyes shone with tears as she turned and looked at him. He had never once faltered in his belief that he would walk again. They had postponed their wedding indefinitely because he wanted to be standing at the altar when they got married, wanted to be able to carry her over the threshold at the end of the evening. And also because somewhere deep inside she hoped that her brother would be willing to walk her down the aisle.

"C'mon, let's go to bed." He nodded for her to join him, wishing he could take her hand or rest his arm around her shoulders as they walked together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 3**

Jeff snapped the lights in the back of the restaurant on and pocketed his car keys as he motioned for his newest employee to follow him inside. He hadn't been surprised when he had gone around to the guesthouse and Max had answered on the first knock. The younger man didn't appear to have gotten much rest in spite of the tranquility of his new surroundings. But he knew it would take time for him to adjust to the differences.

Max looked around as he followed Jeff through the maze of counters, equipment, and appliances. "You use all this stuff?"

"Every bit of it. You just wait, give it a few hours and there'll be so many people runnin' around back here you'll wonder how they don't trip over each other."

"Sounds kinda insane."

"It's organized chaos."

He could hear the pride in the man's voice. He shoved his hands in his pockets as Jeff moved to a thermostat on the wall between a pair of large stainless steel doors, lifting an eyebrow when the man made a sound of satisfaction before reaching up to tap the cover over the gauges. "Air conditioner?"

"Thermostats for the freezer and refrigerator units. Keeping the food at the right temperature is important."

"What happens if one of 'em breaks down?"

"I've got smaller backup units just in case." He smiled. "Better to be safe than sorry." He led the way through the kitchen, heading for the double doors that led to the dock where his supplies came in daily. "Know anything about food safety?"

"I know which restaurants throw out the best food at the end of the night." Max shrugged. "I can tell you which ones to avoid."

Jeff paused, studying the younger man for several long minutes. He'd known his share of hard times growing up but he'd never lived on the streets or survived by eating out of dumpsters. "I can only imagine you probably had a few bad experiences."

"Yeah, well," he looked around at the dock that was lit by two bright overhead lights, "you live an' learn." He turned in a small circle. "I've seen a lot of docks behind restaurants but none that were this clean. You could eat off the concrete."

"It's washed down and sanitized every morning after deliveries and every night after the last trip out to the dumpsters."

"You throw a lot of food away?"

"No, very little in fact. I work with an organization that collects food and puts it to use at a nearby shelter. There's no reason to waste it and while there are plenty of folks out there who get their meals from dumpsters every night," he shrugged, "it's risky. Food can spoil quickly and someone who's that hungry may not even notice it's bad. They could suffer from food poisoning or worse."

Max knew enough about that but he was surprised that Jeff seemed to have an understanding of the issue. Before he could ask about it a truck pulled past them and slowed to a stop before backing up to the dock. Jeff greeted the driver when he joined them on the dock, introducing Max to him and standing back while he unlocked the door on the trailer and rolled it up. "First thing I'm gonna teach you, Max, is how to receive frozen foods."

For the next couple of hours he worked side by side with Jeff, learning how to inspect incoming shipments of fresh and frozen food. In between shipments he was busy stocking the freezer, refrigerator, and dry goods. As the hours passed employees began to arrive, clocking in for work, and being introduced to their new coworker.

By the end of his shift he had met at least 20 other employees and he was amazed at how many people worked for Jeff. He hung around for a couple more hours, learning people's names and what they did at the restaurant. Waiters, waitresses, servers, runners, bussers, dishwashers, the cashiers, prep cooks, pastry chef, line cooks, and a couple of chefs, and for the most part everyone had been friendly. It was a lot to keep track of. Jeff was in the middle of what he had called the organized chaos, monitoring the food preparation, overseeing the handling of the food, as well as going out into the dining area and checking on the customers. At almost 5pm he caught up with Jeff to let him know he was going to clock out and leave.

"You remember the address?" Jeff asked as he wiped his hands on a towel.

Max nodded. "Wrote it down this mornin'."

"You did a good job today." He filled a takeout plate with spaghetti and meatballs, running a towel over the edges before snapping a lid on it and holding it out to Max. He shook his head when he saw the hesitation on the younger man's face. "Take it, you earned it. I'll see you at 4am."

He finally accepted the takeout and headed for the employees' entrance, pausing by the time clock and pulling the little plastic card out of his pocket. He swiped it, smiling to himself when he heard the electronic beep. It was bright outside after being indoors all day. The front of the restaurant was well-lit with natural light but most of his day had been spent in the kitchen area. He squinted against the sunlight and headed for the subway, slowing down when he reached the turnstiles. How many times had he and Ava jumped them and spent the night riding the rails to stay out of the cold?

_Ava._ He backed away from the turnstiles and took the steps up to the street, standing there for a moment to get his bearings. Once he had taken some time to figure out what he should do he returned to the subway and ignored the little voice that said he could just jump the turnstiles. He pulled out the money he needed to purchase a ticket and moved to wait on the platform. He had left the majority of the money he had earned in prison folded over and taped to the back of a drawer in the kitchen.

Almost 45 minutes later he was standing in front of the old rundown apartment building he and Ava had lived in. He knew she had still been living there the last time she had visited him in prison. He took in a deep breath and walked inside, going up to the fourth floor and knocking on the door of their old apartment. He couldn't hear anything coming from inside and as he turned to go down to the super's office to see if he'd let him into the apartment he noticed the marks on the doorframe by the lock.

His fingers brushed against the marks, feeling the grooves made from whatever had been used to pry the door open at some point. He swallowed hard and looked around before turning the doorknob, knowing before he touched it that the door would open without protest. He walked inside and quietly pushed the door closed, taking in the mess and knowing that something bad had happened. The furniture was overturned, cushions sliced open and the stuffing ripped out. The few pictures that had decorated the walls had been thrown to the ground and torn apart. In the bedroom the mattress and boxsprings had fallen to the same fate as the other furniture. The drawers in the dresser had been pulled out and the clothing was strewn everywhere. The tiny cabinet over the sink had been emptied out, the contents scattered all over the bathroom floor.

Someone had been looking for something. He reached for the loose brick in the wall behind the door, wiggling it around and pulling it out before reaching inside and feeling around. He dropped his head against the wall and closed his eyes when his fingers wrapped around a roll of money. He pulled it out and straightened up to look down at it, brushing the mortar dust off of it and unfolding it, his eyes widening when he realized how much he was holding. Even in almost six years she couldn't have saved this kind of money, not with covering the rent and other bills.

"Damn it, Ava, what'd you get into?" He put the money back and replaced the brick before backing out of the small room. He looked around at the destruction in the apartment before leaving it the same way he had found it.

He went down to the office that belonged to the building super, knocking on his door and waiting impatiently for him to answer. When it was finally opened the thin man peered around the edge of the door suspiciously.

"Help you?" the man muttered.

"I'm lookin' for the tenant in apartment 4B."

"Ain't seen her."

"She still livin' here?"

"Assume so," he answered carelessly. "Rent's paid up for the next three months, no reason for me to bother with her."

Max backed away when the man slammed the door in his face. He left the building and moved through the neighborhood, stopping in the places he and Ava had frequented before he had been arrested. It had been weeks since anyone had seen her and no one knew where she had gone. As darkness began to fall he headed back to the subway, his mind turning over the possibilities. He couldn't figure out how the money fit into her disappearance other than it being in the apartment, the condition of the apartment, and her missing meant something had gone horribly wrong.

He couldn't imagine her just taking off. Not without telling him she was leaving and not without a fight. The state of the apartment was more than enough evidence to suggest that her leaving hadn't been voluntary. He couldn't go to the cops because Ava still had ties to Damon and his parole could be revoked if they found out he had been anywhere near anything related to the man or his organization. How was he going to find her on his own?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Damon Knight looked up from the ledger and waved when he saw the man standing in the doorway. "What is it?" he barked.

"One of the boys spotted someone in the bitch's apartment."

The man behind the desk slowly sat back, the fingers of his right hand drumming against the blotter as he nodded. "Evans." He smiled slowly, his lips curling into a vicious smile. He had known it wouldn't take long before the boy started looking for her and played right into his hands.

"You want us to go get him?"

"No, leave him be for now, Nicholas. When the time is right I'll approach him myself. We'll let him run in circles for a while, get himself good and worked up so that when he sees me he'll do whatever I want in exchange for his precious Ava."

Nicholas glanced at the silent man standing behind the boss' right shoulder. Santini was Damon's bodyguard and rarely left his side. "What makes you think he gives two shits about that bitch?"

"He's been free less than 48 hours and he's already jeopardizing his parole by looking for her. If there's one person he's loyal to, one person he would die for, it's her."

"He didn't flip on you when he got busted."

"Fear and loyalty are not the same thing, Nicholas. The street rat has that over you."

Nicholas seethed at the insult. One day he was going to slit that street rat's throat.

"I don't want him approached, do you understand me? Follow him, watch him, but whatever you do, I do not want any of my people coming in contact with him."

"I've got it."

"One slipup and I'll hold you personally responsible." He returned to his ledger once Nicholas had vacated the room and his pen hovered over the page. "I have a feeling he's going to become a liability," he mused quietly.

The big man shifted soundlessly.

Damon nodded. "I'll let you know when it's time to take care of him." He started scratching out information in the ledger, pushing the information from the meeting into the appropriate compartments to be dealt with later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Liz suffered through the expected round of twenty questions during dinner with her mother and sipped her wine, counting down the minutes until she would be free of the interrogation. She came by for dinner every Wednesday night and sat through the meal, wishing she was anywhere but there. She loved her parents dearly but she didn't want to be a crusader for criminals. She just didn't see the point. They were going to end up back in prison anyway. She had seen more than one of them take advantage of the opportunities given to them after being released on parole and then turn around and throw it away. She didn't know why her parents continued to participate in the programs.

"Are you listening to anything I'm saying, Elizabeth?"

"Mom, can we talk about something else? I have no intention of getting married and giving you grandchildren anytime soon. Let's just all accept that reality and move on."

"I will never understand how you've become so cynical at your age."

"It's not that hard to figure out, Mom. This place is a revolving door for criminals. Half of them come through here, get their chance at having a real life, and before long they're right back where you found them."

"The program runs at an 83% success rate."

"And I don't care." She took a drink of her wine.

"I wish I could make you understand why this's so important." Nancy shook her head when one of the servants came in and asked if they were ready for dessert. "No thank you, Emily."

"Mom, you and Dad have a passion for working with these people and fine, I've accepted that, but I have no interest in following that path."

"You judge people without taking the time to get to know them."

"Yeah, let's go over that again. They're criminals, Mom! So what, they had a crummy childhood or whatever! Boo-hoo! That doesn't mean they had no choice but to turn to a life of crime to survive. I pay taxes to support these people and how is that fair?"

"It's easy to sit back and say things like that when you've had everything you've ever wanted given to you."

Liz shook her head in annoyance. "This's a pointless argument. Neither of us is gonna change our opinion."

Nancy sighed and sipped her wine. She just didn't understand how her daughter had grown up to have this opinion. Yes, she agreed that people made the choices that led them down whatever path they ended up on, but sometimes that choice was the better option of those available to them at the time.

"If we're finished here I'd like to take a few laps in the pool."

"The guesthouse is occupied."

"Perfect. Some nonviolent offender who deserves a second chance, no doubt. I'll take Diablo with me when I go out." The dog lying by the fireplace lifted his head when he heard his name, his stubby tail wagging happily for a few moments until nothing else was said to him. She stood and picked up her wine glass, going for a refill before heading up to her room to change into a bikini and take a dip.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Max was sitting on the porch when the pool lights came on, illuminating the water and throwing light over most of the backyard. He had been listening to the sounds of the night and wondering how he was going to find Ava when he heard a door open and moments later it closed again. He saw the dog first and he wondered why he hadn't seen it the night before. The couple had to let the animal out several times a day, walk it in the mornings and evenings.

When the dog was joined by someone else he thought it was Mrs. Parker so he got up and started to go back inside. It was when she turned to place something on one of the poolside tables that he realized the woman was a brunette. He watched from the shadows as she peeled the fluffy white robe off and dropped it on a chaise lounge before tossing a towel on top of it. His mouth went dry when she turned and the light showed off her lithe body.

"I know you're watching, perv," she said as she walked around the pool to the deep end. "Look all you want but come anywhere near me and my dog will take your balls off."

That pissed him off. He had been involved in plenty of questionable and illegal things over the years but he had never been a pervert. He walked down the three steps to the flagstone path and followed it around to the pool. "If you didn't wanna be watched you wouldn't parade around like that knowin' someone was watching."

"Diablo."

Max wasn't expecting it when the dog moved, launching itself at him and knocking him off of his feet. The breath was forced from his lungs when his back hit the ground and he froze when he felt the teeth pressed against his neck. The dog's hot breath scorched his skin and he tried not to think of the drool he could feel creeping down his throat.

"Good boy, Diablo." She patted the Doberman Pinscher's side and crouched down next to them. "My parents may think that you're worth saving but just so we're on the same page, I think you're just wasting their time because it's only a matter of time before you're back in prison. Do we understand each other?" She cocked her head to one side. "You can blink once for no and twice for yes."

He wanted nothing more than to tell her exactly what he thought of her bitchy attitude but he could hardly breathe so he complied and blinked twice. As soon as she called the dog off he sat up, eying it warily when it moved back and sat down with its eyes trained on him. He reached up to rub his throat.

"I've heard that's an interesting sensation," Liz said conversationally. "Having a dog's teeth pressed into your neck. Do you have any idea just how easily Diablo could've crushed your throat? I'd remember that," she said loftily as she stood back up.

He couldn't believe she was Jeff and Nancy Parker's daughter! She was nothing like them. She hadn't even bothered to speak to him before passing judgment. He was still pissed but since her parents were helping him he bit his tongue. And as soon as she turned her back on him he shoved her, sending her screeching into the water. He was smirking in satisfaction when he heard her shout for the dog and before his legs could catch up with his brain's screaming _Run!_ the dog rammed him from behind and he lost his balance.

In the water Liz smirked when his arms flailed as he lost his balance and he fell into the water. Her amusement was short-lived though because after just a few seconds she realized that he was panicking and drawing in gasping breaths of air as he fought to stay above the surface. She swam around him, careful to avoid his arms as he grasped for something to keep him afloat. She wrapped one arm around his chest and started to swim backwards, pulling him towards the edge of the pool so he could grab onto the concrete. "Hold on," she muttered as she hauled herself up out of the water and helped him out. She motioned for the Doberman to stay back when he started growling. "No, Diablo, stay."

Max was coughing and sputtering as he pushed himself to his feet, shoving her hands away and stumbling towards the guesthouse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"_You did what?!"_

Liz winced when Maria shouted in her ear and she held the phone away until the yelling began to slow down. "How was I supposed to know the guy couldn't swim? Besides, he pushed me first!"

"What're you, five? You called him a perv, Liz! If he's staying in your parent's guesthouse he's a nonviolent offender and your dad wouldn't let him stay if he was a perv."

"Well, why would he push me in the pool if he wasn't feeling defensive?"

"Maybe because you sent your attack dog after him? Having that animal crushing his windpipe probably put the guy on edge. You owe him an apology."

"I'm not apologizing to some criminal."

"You nearly drowned the man, Liz. And when you apologize to him, don't have Cujo sitting at your feet. Now that he's spent all of what, two or three minutes in your presence, he's probably afraid of water _and_ dogs."

"Whatever." She dragged her fingers through her hair and stared at the guesthouse. The lights were on and she could see him walking back and forth through the curtained windows.

"Tomorrow I'm going with you to your dad's restaurant and you're gonna apologize to him."

"Why would I think he was anything but a perv when he was clearly watching me?"

"Elizabeth Parker, we both know you went out there intending to harass the guy because you were in a pissy mood after ducking your mom's questions about where your life is going. And you do not go out for a nighttime swim wearing whatever you were wearing because you want to be ignored. The guy does not deserve to be treated like that simply because you're pissy." She sighed and shook her head when Michael motioned for her to give him the phone. She covered the mouthpiece and used her elbow to deflect his grab for the handset. "Stop it, Michael."

"Why're you bothering to give her advice? All she's gonna do is ignore it."

She made a face and ducked out of his reach when he advanced on her with his grease-covered hands. He had been out in the driveway working on one of the cars their neighbors and friends were always bringing by for repairs. He was filthy after crawling around under whatever he was working on and he had that look in his eye that told her she was going to be covered in greasy handprints before long. Her eyes flicked over him and she felt herself respond to the want in his dark eyes. "Liz, sweetie, I'm gonna have to let you go but we'll talk about this tomorrow."

"There's nothing to talk about," she insisted as she disconnected the call and dropped the phone on the nightstand. She got up and walked over to the window that looked down over the backyard, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. She supposed Maria was right. _At least about almost accidentally drowning the man,_ she mused as she threw herself down on the bed again.

She sighed and dropped her head back against the pillow as she stroked the dog stretched out beside her. She hated having to apologize to anyone but even more than that she despised being indebted to anyone. She dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a red tank top before brushing her hair and leaving her room with Diablo at her side. She may owe the guy an apology but she wasn't stupid.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Max was pacing back and forth in the living room when he heard a knock on the door. Somehow he knew who would be standing there and he jerked it open, barely sparing her a glance before his gaze dropped to look for her dog.

"I'm here alone," Liz said, her hands raised in a non-threatening gesture.

"Pretty risky, me bein' a perv and all," he snarled and walked back into the house. "And since I'm gonna be goin' back to prison pretty soon you never know what I might be capable of."

"Good point." She snapped her fingers and Diablo walked inside and sat at her feet. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. I didn't know you couldn't swim. I don't even know anyone your age who doesn't know how to swim."

"Yeah, well, chances are good you don't half of what you think you know." He watched the dog warily. "You like to make snap judgments without bothering to get your facts straight."

Liz found herself staring at him, her eyes tracing over his bare upper torso. She hadn't paid much attention to him earlier, too busy letting him know that he was nobody important. Her gaze was drawn to an abdominal scar that was visible above his low-hanging jeans. His jeans were ill-fitting, his belt keeping them up and causing the material to bunch up at the waistband. She followed the line of the scar until it disappeared from sight and without intending to her eyes caught on the arrow of hair below his belly button.

Max shifted under her gaze and shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping she couldn't tell he was clenching his fists. He forced his own gaze to remain steady when her eyes lifted and locked on his and he felt an attraction so intense it was physical. It wasn't her. Hell, it'd been six years since he'd had sex. Any attractive woman would get that response out of him. Not that it mattered because she wasn't the one who was gonna break that particular dry spell. The Parkers' daughter was off limits for so many reasons.

She could see the desire in his eyes but she also recognized that steely resolve that kept him rooted to the spot. His eyes were the most interesting shade of amber and without her permission her feet carried her closer to him. There was something about him, something that drew her to him the way magnets were irresistibly drawn to each other. She reached up to brush her fingers over the goatee before letting her thumb glide over his lips. She could feel his heated breath brushing against her fingertips, could hear the increase in his breathing, and she could see the pulse point in his throat jumping as his heart beat faster. Any other man in his position would make a move but she could see the tension in him as his body became taut.

"You need to go," Max rasped.

_This attraction was insane,_ Liz thought. "I go when I want to," she said stubbornly.

"Then you'd better want to go or I'm gonna toss you out on your ass." He reached for her to help her to the door but his hand hovered above her arm when her dog growled in warning. "Dog or no dog, you need to go."

She smirked and backed away. "I'll go." She snapped her fingers and Diablo walked with her to the front door. "But I'll be back without the dog."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Whatever you think's gonna happen between us isn't gonna happen."

"Oh, it's gonna happen. I get what I want." She shut the door before he could utter a word of protest and smiled all the way back up to the house. It wasn't until she was raiding the refrigerator for a snack that she realized she didn't even know the guy's name.

Max leaned back against the door and thumped his head against it. Great, that's all he needed, some horny little rich girl who wanted him to bed her. Which wouldn't be a problem if she wasn't the Parker's daughter. He looked down at the deadbolt on the door and gnawed on his bottom lip as he debated whether or not to lock it. The thought of locking it made him feel nauseous after years behind bars but he didn't need trouble sneaking into bed with him in the middle of the night either. He had a feeling he was going to have his hands full with her. _Bad choice of words, Evans,_ he thought when the words brought an image to mind that he tried uselessly to shove away.

With a sigh he turned the lock and just hoped she didn't have access to the spare keys.


End file.
